Chapter 16
No sooner had Vixa and her escort emerged from the dark Mortas Trench than they saw a cloud of mud stirred up on the plain. The seafloor between the ruined wall and the city was alive with columns of Dargonesti, marching in formation. Vixa veered away from the massed ranks, angling up toward the surface.
From above she could see the Dargonesti were marching away from the city, parallel to Coryphene’s old wall. They were organized into companies of two hundred or so warriors, and there were many companies—a great many—strung out in a long line. Large numbers of dolphins cruised over their heads. Vixa and the sea brothers accompanying her blended in. A slower swimmer than the powerful shapeshifters, she was soon laboring along at the rear and falling behind.
A company of blueskins grounded their weapons and faced about. As Vixa looked back, other Dargonesti warriors sprang in unison from the seafloor and began swimming vigorously toward her. That was enough. She called ahead to her escorts.
“Brothers! I need you!”
There was no response. Vixa tore her frightened gaze from the advancing sea elves. Her escort had disappeared. No sea brothers were in sight.
Vixa swam upward as fast as she dared. The Dargonesti were surprisingly fast swimmers, considering they had only webbed hands and feet instead of flukes. This fact, added to the weight of Gundabyr that she carried on her back, meant that Vixa could maintain only a moderate lead. She had to stay ahead of her pursuers, but could not go so fast that Gundabyr would be in danger of exploding. Again, she called for the sea brothers.
All at once a storm of gray muscle and churning tails broke around her. Vixa heard the loud thumps as the shapeshifters rammed the swimming Dargonesti, knocking them out of the pursuit. The warriors were at a great disadvantage, having laid aside their spears in order to swim more rapidly. They were no match for the sea brothers, and dispersed toward the sea bottom. A knot of dolphins formed around Vixa as she raced for the surface. One dolphin broke from the screen and swam to Vixa’s side. It was Kios.
“Coryphene will hear of this,” she told him as they sped through the water. “He’ll realize you have betrayed him.”
“Do I care?” Kios replied.
She noticed Kios and the other dolphins were dipping and rising erratically. “What are you doing?” she called.
“Beware the netters!” Kios warned. “Beware the netters!”
Dargonesti soldiers were hovering in the water ahead. Between each pair was stretched a net. The sun’s rays, slanting into the depths, picked out the hooks and weights on the edges of the nets.
Gundabyr kicked his heels against her flanks. “I know! I see them!” she squeaked and swam harder.
“Away! Away!” Kios cried. The shield of dolphins broke up. Vixa automatically followed Kios. The Dargonesti netters, accustomed to hunting powerful game fish like tuna and marlin, wielded their nets with great skill. The sea brothers, however, were just as skilled at avoiding the nets, and lured the netters away from Vixa and Gundabyr.
The water was growing lighter as Vixa neared the surface. The green depths gave way to paler shades, full of the sun’s warmth. The bright orb drew her upward. She pounded the sea with her broad flukes, all thought of the netters gone.
Vixa broke the surface, leaping eight feet above the waves, with Gundabyr clinging to her for all he was worth. The sun was hot on her sleek wet hide. She uttered a high, shrill cry and crashed back into the tossing ocean.
The impact of landing jarred Gundabyr loose. He sailed into the waves, his airshell flying from his grip. Though he flailed the water frantically, he sank like a stone. He’d only dropped a few yards before a dark shape rose underneath him. He felt himself being lifted, and when Vixa vented, Gundabyr got a faceful of salty mist.
“Pah!” He mopped his face with his hand. He was sitting astride Vixa just behind her dorsal fin. “Watch where you do that!” he told her.
Vixa understood him just fine, but the only response he heard was a loud treble screech.
“Apology accepted,” said the dwarf, though Vixa had actually told him to stop complaining.
She put her tail to the wind, which made the waves break over Gundabyr’s back rather than his face. The drenched dwarf scanned the horizon, squinting into the sun.
“That way,” he stated firmly. Vixa spoke, but the dwarf shook his head. “It’s no good burping and squeaking at me. I don’t understand. Go that way. It’s north, so we’re bound to hit land eventually.”
She leapt forward. Gundabyr nearly toppled off. “Yow!” he yelled. He held on tight and squeezed with his knees. Vixa ducked under the surface, then burst into the air, arcing in and out of the water as though born to it. The poor dwarf simply clenched his eyes shut and held on.
The sun was high and hot, but it felt good to Vixa as she bounded from wave to wave. When her head was underwater, she heard a myriad of sounds: the swish of swimming fish, the click and clatter of crabs and shellfish, the distant booming songs of the great whales. She found she could taste differences in seawater, too. Down deep the water was cool and still. At the surface it was charged with light and life.
At one point a silver fingerling darted past her, and she dove after it. The fingerling swam desperately to evade her, but Vixa closed in as if pulled by an invisible line. With a sideways snap of her jaws, she swallowed the fish whole.
Heels thumped her sides. By Astra! She was three fathoms down, and she’d completely forgotten she had a passenger! She arrowed back to the surface.
“Will you please not do that!” the dwarf exploded as he gasped for breath.
This time the noises she made were apologetic.
For the rest of the day Vixa kept to the surface, her nose pointed north. When she tired and slowed, Gundabyr climbed off her back and held himself up by clutching her dorsal fin. This gave her some respite from his weight, but they couldn’t make much progress that way, so they kept such breaks to a minimum.
Late in the day they spied a ship, toiling under tack against the breeze. Vixa altered her course toward the wallowing two-master.
“Ahoy!” sang out Gundabyr.
A human sailor put his head over the high rail. “Ahoy! Who calls?”
“Down here!”
Vixa swam alongside the ship’s port side. The sailor gawked when he spotted the dwarf riding a big black-and-white dolphin.
“Blow me to Balifor!” he yelped. “What in Rann’s name are you doin’ down there, mate?”
“Riding a dolphin, of course. Slow down, Vixa. I want a word with this fellow.”
She complied, matching her speed to that of the creeping ship.
“Can you tell me where we are?” Gundabyr asked.
“We’re eight days out of Balifor city,” the sailor responded, his eyes starting from his head.
“Where’ll we make landfall if we keep heading due north?”
“Uh, Silvanesti—but you don’t want to go there, mate. They don’t allow visitors.”
“Did you hear that, Vixa? Silvanesti!”
She responded with a pleased affirmative.
“What did it say?” asked the sailor, awestruck.
“No idea,” Gundabyr replied with a shrug.
Someone on deck called out. “Haynar, you laggard! Who’re you talking to?”
The sailor turned away. “Captain! You won’t believe it, sir! There’s a dwarf in the water, ridin’ a—”
By that time Vixa had rounded the bow of the slow-moving vessel and was cruising up the starboard side. No one else caught a glimpse of them. Vixa could imagine the poor sailor trying to explain what he’d seen. A dolphin chuckle shook her.
It was late evening their third day at sea when the wind changed to easterly and blue-black clouds piled up on the horizon. The smell of fresh rain wafted to Vixa from miles away. Soon they could see bolts of lightning snapping from cloud to sea.
“Looks as if we’re in for it,” Vixa chirped wearily.
“Hmm, looks as if we’re in for it,” Gundabyr said.
The ocean was getting rougher by the minute. Wind blew in gusts of hot and cold air, and cool rain pattered over the tossing waves. Gundabyr raised his salt-crusted face and let fresh water fill his mouth. He swallowed repeatedly.
“Rain,” he sighed joyfully.
A thunderclap punctuated his sigh. The rain fell harder. Vixa found it more and more difficult to swim on the surface against the wind-driven waves. She bobbed her head and screeched to warn Gundabyr she was planning to submerge.
“What? What’re you saying?” he demanded. As the water level reached his chin, he finally understood. He took a great gulp of air and pinched his nose shut.
Vixa dove no more than two fathoms, swam hard for twenty heartbeats, then surfaced so Gundabyr could breathe. This wasn’t terribly successful. The wind was whipping the waves eight to ten feet high. Vixa struggled on, boring through the towering waves.
“Quite—a—storm!” Gundabyr shouted.
She agreed silently. She hadn’t eaten since earlier that day when a few small fish blundered into her path. The constant hard work of swimming was draining her strength. Her body felt like a longbow held too long at full draw—ready to snap. Doggedly, she pressed on through the howling squall.
Lightning struck nearby. It left a bitter smell that was quickly washed away by the pouring rain.
It was black as night now. The only things visible were the waves, thrown out in bold relief by each flash of lightning. Vixa had no idea which direction she was traveling. The churning ocean could have spun her to any point of the compass. When the storm had first struck, the wind had been easterly, hitting her on the right flank. She decided to keep the wind on her right.
After a time, the water took on a new taste. Mud. Vixa rolled onto her side and peered through the dark water. She couldn’t see the bottom, but there was a thick cloud of dirt in the water. Was it shallower here?
Each stroke of her flukes was like the blow of a lash. Vixa panted hard through her blowhole. Gundabyr was ominously quiet now. She could feel his heart beating, so she knew he was alive, and his hands were still clenched about her dorsal fin, but he hadn’t spoken in a very long time.
On a downstroke of her tail, Vixa felt her flukes drag against something. She arched her back and ran her snout through sand. Land! They must have made land! Unless—she hated even to think it—unless Coryphene had managed to summon the kraken again.
She drove ahead until her belly dragged in the sand. Waves washed against her and the dwarf. Spray lashed her eyes, but Vixa heaved herself out of the water and flopped forward. Another roller caught her and shoved her higher on the beach. Gundabyr was knocked from her back and taken away by the surf. Vixa had no strength left even to cry out to him.
Another wave hit her. She rolled over in the wet sand, coming to a stop against a pile of driftwood. By a vivid bolt of lightning, she saw trees some distance away. No trees grew on the kraken’s broad back. They had made it to land!
Vixa closed her eyes. She was so spent she could barely think, but had to will herself to transform. She filled her mind with her true form, envisioning legs, two arms, and her elven face. The change seemed to take an eternity. Exhaustion made concentration difficult. The heat of her dolphin blood was a growing agony. At last, she felt her skin crawl and her limbs stretching into place. Her dolphin squeal of triumph became the glad cry of an elf maiden. Now the cold knifed into her bones.
With her last ounce of strength, Vixa reached out her hand. Her fingers closed on a piece of slick driftwood lying nearby. Her eyelids fluttered down, and she lost consciousness.
The lightning flashed. The cool rain fell.
She awoke with the sun in her eyes and the squawk of wheeling sea gulls in her ears. Vixa turned her head and saw she was several yards from the hissing waves. She sat up slowly. The beach was wide and empty. The driftwood she had clung to was part of a shipwreck, sticking up from the sand.
Just as she’d begun to worry about Gundabyr, Vixa saw the dwarf’s vest lying on the beach next to her. At least, it used to be his vest. Now it was in two pieces. The cotton lining had been torn away from the outer woolen material. She picked it up and studied it. A smile slowly appeared on her face. Without further ado, Vixa donned the two garments.
Vixa saw bare footprints leading into the woods. The dwarf had obviously regained consciousness first and gone exploring. She hoped he’d find them something to eat. And drink. Vixa’s throat was parched. A long, cool drink of water would be paradise just now. That, and half a roasted ox.
As if on cue, Gundabyr appeared out of the trees, his thick arms laden with fruit. He nodded in response to her greeting, then dumped his load of plums, wild grapes, and thorn apples on the sand before her.
“If you’re as hungry as I was, dig in,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve had my fill already, so don’t be shy.”
Vixa took an apple in each hand and bit into them alternately. Juice ran down her chin. They were the finest apples she’d ever tasted.
“Yup, they’re good,” Gundabyr said, agreeing with her happy sigh.
She interrupted her chewing long enough to ask, “Do you know where we are?”
“The Silvanesti coast, I’d say. Or maybe Kharolis. I saw smoke over that way”—he pointed east—“so there may be a fisher’s hut there.”
Vixa ate all the apples, four plums, and most of the grapes before she ventured to stand. She still felt weak, but it was amazing how the fruit had restored her.
“Well, shall we introduce ourselves?” she said, gesturing eastward. They set off down the beach, and Vixa munched periodically on a handful of grapes.
It probably wasn’t the safest thing to do—two strangers walking up to the first signs of life they’d found on a foreign beach. If this was indeed Silvanesti territory, there wouldn’t be any brigands or slavers, but the Silvanesti themselves weren’t very hospitable to outsiders, especially dwarves and Qualinesti. Still, they had invaluable information for the Speaker of the Stars. Coryphene’s invasion force was probably only days behind them. Maybe only hours.
They’d spotted some dark objects on the beach ahead. As they drew nearer, Vixa recognized them as two small boats, keels up on the sand. The boats had the characteristic shape and decoration of elven craft. Between the upturned hulls a crude wooden rack had been set. Clean, gutted fish hung on the rack, drying in the hot sun. The smell of wood smoke, wafting from the trees nearby, was strong here.
“Hello?” Vixa called. “Anyone here?”
A tall figure emerged from the trees. Upswept ears marked him as elven, as did his long blond hair, drawn back in a queue. He shaded his eyes and saw Vixa and Gundabyr.
“Kenthrin!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Dannagel! Come here!”
Two more elves appeared out of the woods. They were definitely Silvanesti as well. All three had the fair skin, pale hair, and sharp features of eastern elves. They were dressed in white, knee-length robes.
“What in the name of the immortal gods is that?” exclaimed one of the newcomers.
“I believe it’s a girl,” said the other. “Or didn’t you notice, Kenthrin?”
The first Silvanesti jogged down the gentle slope, his cloak flapping. “Were you shipwrecked?” he asked, skidding to a stop. “Are you all right?”
“Nope,” said Gundabyr, just as Vixa replied, “Yes.”
The elf looked puzzled, but Vixa said, “Do you have any water?”
The Silvanesti unslung a waterskin from his shoulder and handed it over. Vixa drank deeply, then passed the skin to the dwarf.
The other two elves joined them. The one with the impudent eyes—Dannagel—smilingly appraised Vixa’s skimpy attire. Vixa’s face, reddened by the time she’d spent lying unconscious on the beach, took on an even deeper hue. The first elf frowned at his companion and unhooked his own red-bordered cloak. He draped this around Vixa’s shoulders.
“I am Samcadaris, son of Palindar,” he said. “These are my friends, Kenthrin and Dannagel.”
“Vixa Ambrodel.”
“Gundabyr, forgemaster of the clan—”
Dannagel broke in, saying, “Ambrodel? Did you say Ambrodel?” Vixa, in the midst of another drink, nodded. “Of the line of Tamanier Ambrodel?”
She swallowed the cool water. “He was my grandfather.”
“She’s Qualinesti!” Dannagel declared, surprise in every syllable.
“Just call me Gundabyr. Everyone does,” said the dwarf, irked at being ignored.
“It doesn’t matter who or what they are,” Samcadaris stated. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“That we are,” Gundabyr said fervently.
“I am the daughter of Kemian Ambrodel and Verhanna Kanan,” Vixa explained. “Master Gundabyr and I were on separate sea voyages when we were captured and held prisoner.”
The three Silvanesti waited. “Captured by whom?” prompted Kenthrin.
“The Dargonesti.”
The three elves exchanged bewildered looks. “The who?” said Samcadaris.
“The race of elves who live at the bottom of the ocean.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Dannagel burst out laughing. “She’s mad! Daughter of the commander of the Qualinesti army indeed! Elves living in the ocean? Throw her back, my friends. She’s crazy.”
Kenthrin’s expression was more compassionate, but his words were not. “The Dargonesti are just an old legend. Tell us really, how came you here?”
“Listen to me,” Vixa pleaded. “I am of the royal house of Qualinost. If you help me, I’ll see that you are handsomely rewarded.”
“Gold is not required,” Samcadaris said firmly. “Contrary to appearances, we are not simple fishers. We are members of House Protector, and serve in the household guard of the Speaker of the Stars.”
“Then you must take me to Silvanost! I have urgent news for the Speaker!”
“What could you possibly have to say that would interest His Majesty?” Kenthrin asked.
“News of an impending attack! The Dargonesti mean to make war on you!”
Her pronouncement fell flat. Dannagel and Kenthrin were openly skeptical. Samcadaris gave no opinion, but told her and Gundabyr to come to their campsite. There, in the woods above the beach, the Silvanesti were smoking some of their catch over a hardwood fire. Samcadaris offered them a breakfast of fish.
Gundabyr paled. “None for me! I’ve been living on fish forever! Anything but that!”
Seated on logs around the small, smoky fire, Vixa and Gundabyr recounted their story. The Qualinesti princess held nothing back. She described the war with the chilkit, the invention of gnomefire, and the murder of Colonel Armantaro after Coryphene had promised to release his captives.
“So you’re saying you swam here in three days, in the form of a dolphin with the dwarf riding on your back?” Samcadaris tried not to sound incredulous.
“That’s right.”
“And ten thousand water-breathing elves equipped with firepots that burn under water are coming to conquer Silvanost?”
Vixa bit her lip. “Yes,” she said weakly. Put that way, it sounded foolish to her, too. She stared miserably into the fire.
“I will take you to Thonbec,” Samcadaris announced, surprising his companions as well as the Qualinesti princess. “The commander of the garrison there can decide whether the Speaker need be troubled with this fantastic tale.” His two friends objected, but he added, “Let Axarandes judge the truth or falsity of their story. Can we afford to ignore any hint of invasion? Let General Axarandes decide, I say.”
“They’re mad,” Dannagel insisted.
“Or Qualinesti spies,” suggested Kenthrin.
“In either case, our safest course is to take them to the fortress of Thonbec. Foreigners can’t be allowed to wander the countryside. If they’re spies, they can be held at the general’s pleasure. If they’re telling the truth …” Samcadaris left it to his friends to judge the consequences of that.
Samcadaris went to his knapsack and pulled out a spare robe for Vixa. She took it gratefully. “We’ll break camp immediately,” he told her. “We boated down the shore from the Thon-Thalas, and that’s how we’ll return.”
The Silvanesti packed their belongings and extinguished the fire. Vixa and Gundabyr sat on a log, watching them work. They passed Samcadaris’s waterskin back and forth until it was empty.
“What do you think, Princess?” asked the dwarf.
“There’s a chance,” she murmured. “At least we’re talking to warriors. Now all we have to do is convince this General Axarandes.”
“Can we do it?”
She squeezed his arm. “We must.”